


Threading Fate

by indemnis



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:04:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indemnis/pseuds/indemnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's destiny is intricately weaved into a large web known as fate. And what's meant to be will always be.</p><p>No matter how many lifetimes you have to go into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threading Fate

_We all come from a single cell._

In this lifetime, his name is Yoo Youngjae.

But names don’t really mean much.

And if you really want to know, Yoo Youngjae is not entirely the greatest fan of this weird thing they call destiny. _A man controls his own destiny._ He is thirty years old, single, owns an apartment in the high-end area of the city and has a stable career at the bank, earning a six-figure salary every month.

He’s happy. At least he thinks he is. Sometimes he doesn’t have time to think if he is or not, because _some retards_ working beneath him never find enough brains to do their job right. And because Youngjae is their supervisor he finishes their tasks for them, almost all the time. He lives about three hours away from his parents and he doesn’t have other commitments.

He thinks it’s okay.

When they had met, it was on a wintry December day. _He_ was selling hot potatoes by the roadside, placing his face near the steamer because _fuck, I hate winter, man._

In this lifetime, _he_ is known as Choi Junhong.

                But names don’t really mean much.

He’s just a little boy selling hot potatoes and thankful that at least the job’s warm. Well, kind of. And hey, free potatoes.

I guess you can’t really call it a meeting. Youngjae sniffs the cold air and his nose almost falls off and he sneezes. Choi Junhong hollers out ‘hot potatoes for sale!’ and Youngjae glances over to see the young boy rubbing his hands together, huddling close to the stove.

A few thoughts run through his mind.

_Should I get hot potatoes? He looks like he could need some warmth. What a weird hair colour. Should I get hot potatoes?_

But it’s dinner soon so Youngjae decides against it.

The thoughts run out from his life quick enough as well.

In this lifetime, Choi Junhong and Yoo Youngjae are bound together by the calling out for hot potatoes on a cold December day.

 

 

_I guess that makes us the same organisms._

In this lifetime, his name is Bang Yongguk.

                But names don’t really mean much.

Bang Yongguk is a five year old little boy that can’t stop wreaking havoc. He is his mother’s living nightmare andthe _god damned_ boy just can’t sit still.

But of course she still loves him dearly, but there _must_ be a cure for his hyper activeness, which is the exact reason why he’s registered at this child centre for special kids. His mum tells him only nice people are allowed in this place, but Yongguk frowns.

He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t get to hang out with his normal friends. His mother doesn’t tell him that you don’t make friends by running around in their houses and knocking over their vases. Perhaps she should’ve also told him that friends don’t hang out with you anymore when you throw your arms around and hit them in the face, a large red print on their right cheek.

It’s not like Yongguk can control it. Which is why he’s going to get help here.

In this lifetime, _he_ is called Moon Jongup.

                But names don’t really mean much.

Yongguk’s eyes trail over to the new boy that’s standing by the counter, waiting to be registered and as usual, being his happy lark self, he goes over to shake hands.

The Jongup boy doesn’t speak and he wonders why his mother had lied about there being only nice people in this new place. The lady with the clipboard scribbles something on her paper and five year old Yongguk can’t read very well just yet, but he’s an eager learner.

He actually doesn’t run around so much when they teach him the alphabet.

Jongup leaves with his parents, small hand in his Dad’s large one as he’s tugged over to the play area, a sullen look on his face. Yongguk tilts his head to the side.

“Mama, what does _autism_ mean?”

In this lifetime, Bang Yongguk and Moon Jongup are bounded together by a one-sided greeting between very starkly different children.

 

 

_Perhaps then, we’ll think of each other from time to time_

In this lifetime, his name is Kim Himchan.

                But names don’t really mean much.

Kim Himchan is a wimp. That much he knows. That’s the only thought that courses through his mind when he looks himself in the mirror and tidies his already-neat blonde hair. He just doesn’t want to go to school so early. He never really tells his parents why, though.

_I can handle my own problems._

Kim Himchan is a wimp, but he tries to act the man sometimes. He fails terribly.

He is a sixteen year-old high school student and like everyone else, _he hates high school._ Furthermore, he has more reason to hate high school more than anyone else. Well, not everyone goes to school to be laughed at and have their asses stuck to chairs because some jokers think it’s _so matured_ to put glue on wooden chairs.

Himchan is truly an idiot for falling for it all the time, however.

He bites on his lower lip as the bucket of sewage water is dumped on his head and his fists are clenched into small balls of fury. But as established, Kim Himchan is a wimp. So he wipes the water away from his face and half storms to the bathroom.

Their meeting has to be the most comical one.

In this lifetime, _he_ is Jung Daehyun aka the janitor guy.

                But names don’t really mean much. Neither do occupations, I guess.

It’s a little lame, really, that Jung Daehyun is the man in the ugly pasty blue button-up uniform and he’s holding onto a mop, humming a song that’s _really_ not of this era. He’s forty years old and he’s having (minor) hair loss issues, though he still has a rather handsome face. But at forty years old, handsome can be a rather subjective word.

But looks matter less than names or occupations, kind of.

Their meeting was very unpleasant, more for Daehyun than Himchan. Himchan normally gets the ‘I’m thoroughly embarrassed by myself’ end.

Himchan barges into the bathroom, startling the janitor as his head shoots up to stare at the blonde-haired high schooler facing the mirror, sweeping his wet (and smelly) hair away from his forehead, tears and snot and sewage water all mixed together on his face.

Naturally, that elicits a response known as ‘ _eww_ ’ from Daehyun. Also because at the age of forty, he still hasn’t learnt the art of filtering his reactions and words. Plus he’s kind of a dick. You can’t blame him, he has been single for as long as he can remember.

He tries not to remember he’s forty and balding and not earning enough to afford a boyfriend.

“Um, you need to clean that up yourself, student. I just mopped the floor,” he says with no emotions, his expression deadpanned as the high schooler’s face burns a bright red and he looks upon him incredulously.

“O-oh, o-okay.”

“Thanks. Being a janitor is some tough _shit_ lately, you don’t even know.”

Himchan wipes the water away from his face and runs the water while Daehyun tries not to cringe at the fact that Himchan is dripping toilet water.

 _Yucks_.

He feels like he should ask this young boy what’s wrong and ask if he needs any help and _who did this to you, you smell like someone threw you into a rubbish dump and then buried you in smelly socks soaked in mouldy food and fermented stuff._

But Daehyun isn’t one to probe and he has heard enough cases about janitors being accused of paedophilia in other schools. He also isn’t one to take risks. I guess you could say Jung Daehyun is a wimp too. So with all the compassion he can gather for the younger male, he tries not to flinch at the stench and turns away politely as the blonde-haired male breaks into punctuated sobs.

“Um, yeah.” He’s not very good with his words so he places the mop by the wall, hoping that the younger boy will be kind enough to mop up his own mess after he’s done cleaning up.

He’s not exactly a knight in shining armour. And he embarrasses his damsel thoroughly, if Himchan could be called that.

In this lifetime, Kim Himchan and Jung Daehyun are bound together by washrooms and smelly sewage water. And they are both coincidentally wimps.

 

 

_Even if we’re not entirely aware of it,_

In this lifetime, his name is Moon Jongup.

                But names don’t really mean much. For Jongup, it kind of does, though.

In this lifetime, they are living in the 90s, where grape wine and wild parties every night are part of the tradition for the upper-class men. It’s a tradition Jongup enjoys and finds himself strangely comfortable in.

He’s twenty-four and a successful man, one that goes for the largest ballroom events and the important figure everyone _has to_ invite to their parties. It’s only because he’s the heir to the largest company in South Korea and he hates it. Well, other than the girls, the money, the alcohol and the fooling around, that is.

It doesn’t sound so bad, really, don’t be so easily deceived.

And for Jongup, his name weighs more than anything, because he would never be who he is now without this name; without bearing the ‘Moon’ surname, without being the son of his father. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good thing, but undoubtedly, being the son of the richest man in South Korea has its perks.

And somehow for Jongup, he _does_ feel that he’s nothing without this name. He’s just a strange soul living in the casing called Moon Jongup and without it, he feels insecure and he is truly _nothing_.

Sometimes he feels like he’s living someone else’s life for them but he normally shuts up when women with big chests fondle his arm lovingly and coo at him for being such a darling.

Ask Jongup, he’s not entirely sure what being a darling encompasses, but hey, it’s a pretty nice thing to be called.

Sometimes he also thinks he would be having a whooping good time using this soul and living in another casing that isn’t called Moon Jongup.

In this lifetime, _he_ is known as Yoo Youngjae.

                But names don’t really mean much. For Jongup, it kind of does, though.

Yoo Youngjae is a budding entrepreneur and he’s about Jongup’s age. He’s also quite the man to appear at parties, but mainly because he’s such a good sport and he’s wonderful with his words. He could con you into buying the moon over without batting an eyelid, and you wouldn’t even realise until the cheque is in his hands. That’s how good he is. He’s also rather humorous, though his gift of the tongue could turn against you with spiteful and sharp rebuttals.

Jongup thinks he’s a good man and he’s very talented, though Jongup isn’t one to judge, neither is he experienced in any way in reading people.

But he appreciates Youngjae’s eloquence (something that he had never come to possess) and poise, plus it’s undeniable that the fair-skinned male has quite the eye for some good business investments.

So when Jongup’s father had passed the company on to him, it was natural for Jongup to go into collaboration with Youngjae, shaking his hand warmly and firmly.

They share a few formalities and they get down to business, Youngjae sharing his outlook about the mining industry and its potential while Jongup listens intently and tries to pay attention.

This wasn’t really in his ‘How to be a Rich Playboy’ handbook he was bestowed upon since birth.

Youngjae is known for his attentiveness as well, so the fair-skinned business stops his rambling and look over, chuckling.

“I see you are not interested in speaking business with me, Mr Moon.”

Jongup shakes his head hurriedly and also his hands in his fluster.

“No, no, not at all. I have just been rather confused ever since I stepped up to this burdensome position and I am trying to learn the ropes to doing business. I do hope you can be patient with me. After all, this is my first transaction and it’s my honour to work with you, Mr Yoo.

Please do not take this the wrong way, I had no intentions to offend you with my lack of mannerism, I apologise.”

Youngjae shakes his head politely and reveals another breath-taking smile before clasping his hands together. He leans back into the couch and gestures for Jongup to provide his opinion about their upcoming project.

Things end rather amicably and they shake hands warmly and firmly once more.

In this lifetime, Yoo Youngjae and Moon Jongup are bounded together by a business contract and a simple handshake to signify partnership.

 

 

_Even if we don’t want it to happen at all._

In this lifetime, his name is Jung Daehyun.

                But names don’t really mean much.

He is a predator, this Jung Daehyun, winning the ladies and gentlemen over so easily with his swooning good looks and that _god damn_ smirk that lingers in everyone’s mind for just a minute more.

Let’s just say he has a face that’s not very easily forgotten.

This man lurks in the nightclubs again, weaving through the crowd and bobbing his head to the pounding music, feeling at total ease in this atmosphere. This is his habitat, like a wild animal let loose in his forest. He seeks his prey with glinting eyes.

In this lifetime, _he_ is Bang Yongguk.

                But names don’t really mean much. They really don’t.

Bang Yongguk thinks he might just be the most unfortunate soul on Planet Earth. He had lost his job, his new boyfriend had left him for someone else, it was raining outside and he was caught in it without an umbrella.

He has ample excuse to sit here, dripping rainwater from his hair, dress shirt clinging tightly to his toned torso as he downs his third shot of tequila. He hates alcohol, but perhaps he just needed the stinging scent to knock him senseless for once.

He isn’t aware that he’s targeted by a young handsome man a few feet away, the man who seeks and possesses, without a single falter in his step.

The young male strides over confidently, unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt and sniffing his collar to make sure his killer cologne is working. With a last lick of his lips and a flip of his hair, he walks over.

“Hello, sexy.”

Yongguk looks up with half-opened eyes and his sight is blurry, his eyes losing focus, but the addictive scent of musky cologne hits him straight in the face. He decides he likes it. It’s stinging too, in a good way.

“’Sup, man,” he says simply, the two syllables slurring into one, but Yongguk thinks the intoxication is good. He kinda likes this too, talking to a man he doesn’t know and not even looking close enough to see what he looks like.

“You look like you need some help. Can I bring you home?”

Yongguk snorts and normally he’s put off by bastards like this who just want a single _fuck_ , but surprisingly, tonight, he’s going all out. He has nothing to think about, really. He doesn’t have work tomorrow, he doesn’t have a boyfriend to feel guilty about, and he looks downright sexy in a wet shirt, if he may say so himself. He probably needs some help peeling that shirt off himself and Daehyun looks like he’ll be a wonderful shirt-peeler.

“You’re really direct.”

“Normally I don’t go for it so easily, but you seriously look like you want something like this. So why not? It has been a while since I bottomed, anyway.”

Yongguk looks into the man’s shining eyes and he chuckles, his laughter sounding a little too disjointed but Daehyun thinks he likes it.

“Are you any good?” Yongguk asks, and Daehyun bites back an insult, because _how dare you_ , _if I claimed second no one would dare to be first._

“The best there is around, beautiful.”

They don’t really say anything and they just stare, well, more of glancing with unfocussed pupils in Yongguk’s case. The air turns a little heavy for such small talk and Yongguk stands up, staggering uneasily as the smaller male holds onto his arm, throwing it over his shoulder.

“Make me forget all this shit, man.”

Daehyun smiles.

They reach a hotel room and they do what they need to do, going at it for at least five rounds, Daehyun’s screams resounding through the room and Yongguk likes it. A lot.

Jung Daehyun pulls up his pants and places a kiss on Yongguk’s swollen lips before leaving the room five minutes after their session. One night stands are not cuddle buddies, Daehyun knows.

They never met again and they never really knew each other’s names.

But hey, names don’t really mean much.

In this lifetime, Bang Yongguk and Jung Daehyun are bounded together by messy thrusts, glinting eyes and alcohol intoxication.

 

 

_All bounded by the delicate thread of fate_

In this lifetime, his name is Choi Junhong.

                But names don’t really mean much. To Junhong, they mean quite a bit, only conditionally.

Choi Junhong is an angel. Like a literal one. He lives in the heavens. He’s a special kind of angel; the one that gets to roam the mortal world and link people together.

He’s something like that little missionary of fate, tying humans together so that they meet in the strangest ways possible. Sometimes when the thread of fate thins he gets a little sad.

It either means that these two humans’ fate is coming to an end soon, and that separation is inevitable, or that these two humans were never really meant to cross their paths too intimately. It’s always a little melancholic when this happens. He wishes he were powerful enough to weave an entire web of fate so that everyone can meet everyone else.

But then no one would have time for themselves, if that were to happen.

That’s okay by Junhong, though. He likes people and socialising and he thinks a person finds his or her identity by the people surrounding him. What is a name to a person if it doesn’t mean anything to the people around? What is a name for if there is no one to call it?

In this lifetime, _he_ is Jung Daehyun.

No, he isn’t a janitor with an ugly and pasty blue button-up uniform and he most definitelyis _not_ balding.

                But names don’t really mean much. Unless you have to read them in the Book of Death.

Jung Daehyun is Satan. Like the literal one. He rules over the underworld and he gets to choose the punishments for the sinners. He is the great commander of Death. He enjoys his job, really. It’s easy, just be his sadistic self, point at a mortal’s name and decide on their punishment.

It’s no surprise Choi Junhong hates him. Other than the fact that they _are_ meant to be polar opposites, one the kind missionary of fate and destiny, bringing people together, while the other is the sadistic missionary of death, pulling people apart.

Choi Junhong really hates him because his occupation is out to ruin his very own. Death is ruthless in breaking his thread of fate, the one he has so carefully tied between two mortals. And yet Jung Daehyun has the power to cut it into two, so heartlessly and making all his efforts seem so futile.

He is also an attractive bastard, to boot.

No one likes a handsome destroyer of Fate, okay? Well, at least not Choi Junhong.

“Leave me the heck alone, Jung Daehyun!” Junhong hollers into the strange device, a frown on his pale face, his wings fluttering in fury, his face red and glowing, more than his halo.

Technically Daehyun is older and technically Junhong should be calling him _hyung_ , but they’re both immortal so age doesn’t matter and _who wants to call that idiot ‘hyung’?_

“What did I do now?” There is amusement in Daehyun’s voice and Junhong clenches his fist angrily, controlling his anger so he doesn’t splutter into sparkles. His supervisor would not be happy if he had to go and ask for fairy dust again, for the second time in the week.

(Hey, it isn’t Junhong’s fault that fairy dust is pretty and he gave some to that mortal couple that day because he wanted to impress them and it has been _so_ long since the thread of Fate had bounded two people so securely together.)

Well, they were _the_ mortal couple before Daehyun decided to kill the guy with a brutal car accident, that is.

“You have to stop poking your nose in my bloody business, Daehyun! You know I just tied them both together two mortal years back and they were going to get married,” Junhong hisses through clenched teeth, “and then you killed him? What is your issue, man!”

“He was a sinner, okay? I’m just doing my job just like you’re doing yours, Junhong.”

“I know he was #45 on your list. You’re not exactly the most efficient guy down there and I know that too, Jung Daehyun! Why are you even picking on me! You can’t just have me tie their Fate securely and then take him away like that!”

“I’m going by the books, Junhong.”

“ _Eff_ the books, Daehyun! You’re doing this on purpose! Don’t you ever feel warm and fuzzy inside when you see two mortals end up well together?”

Daehyun chuckles bitterly, the sound roaring from his chest and he shakes as he erupts into louder laughter now. “I was made to kill, Junhong. You’re asking me if I feel warm and fuzzy seeing mortals happy? My answer? No. Firstly, I don’t have insides to feel warm and fuzzy, and secondly, I only get off seeing mortals suffer.

That’s my job. And I hate to break this to you, but what makes you sad makes me happy and what makes me smile makes you cry. I thought we’ve already established this.

Look at you; you can’t even curse properly because you’re a dainty little slave of the white guy up there. Where’s the fun, kiddo?”

“But I’m sure you feel, Daehyun,” Junhong’s voice is smaller than a mouse’s, but Daehyun stills from the statement. There’s an awkward laugh.

“Yes, I feel pleasant when I see mortals writhe in pain. That’s enough feeling, right?”

Junhong breathes in deeply and glances down at his bare feet. “There must be some form of humanity still lingering in you, Daehyun.”

“Well, just keep off my new mortals, okay? Go hunt down the ones with thinning Fate or the old guys or something. Don’t meddle in my business.”

Junhong hangs up and Daehyun is left there, stunted and trying to find a proper response.

In this lifetime, Jung Daehyun and Choi Junhong are pulled away by being arch enemies, opposites in their blood and jobs, but strangely bounded together by a sense of lingering morality.

 

 

_That’s a powerful bond, right?_

In this lifetime, his name is Bang Yongguk.

                But names don’t really mean much.

Bang Yongguk is twenty years old and he’s best friends with this nerd. Yongguk is the popular kid in college, the ace of the soccer team, but he chooses to hang around the shorter boy with black thick-rimmed glasses and always found with his face buried in a textbook of some sort.

In this lifetime, _he_ is Yoo Youngjae.

                But names don’t really mean much. Of course, until you see it written on the Dean’s List.

Yoo Youngjae is not a terribly attractive guy and he’s much younger than Bang Yongguk and a lot more intelligent than he is. But it’s alright since Yongguk is going to be paving his career in the national football scene while Youngjae has only his brains to work on.

That’s it, isn’t it? If you’re inadequate in one area, you work harder in your other areas, trying to compensate for your lack of confidence. Yoo Youngjae takes pride in his studies because he thinks he is not attractive enough. He wishes humans could wear their brains out as clothes and people would judge people for the amount of IQ they actually possess.

That would make him _really_ attractive, and also he could save himself from the pain of talking to some individuals that truly have no wisdom of any sort. Every word they uttered could be considered as a _bloody_ spear in his gut and he desperately wants to scream ‘grow some brains’.

Good lord, why do stupid people even exist in this world?

So he’s not really sure why he’s great friends with Yongguk. The man’s basically just good with his legs and other than his stunning good looks and great skills in football, he’s kind of an empty guy.

But Youngjae also thinks they complement each other rather well, because he’s smart and Yongguk’s not, while Yongguk’s attractive and he’s not.

The perks: he doesn’t ever get insulted or laughed at for being a ‘teacher’s pet’ or ‘nerd of the century’ because Yongguk is always there for him, patting his wide chest and grinning that cheesy smile that always manages to take everyone’s breath away.

When Youngjae had confessed that he was gay, he thought he might have fallen for Yongguk and his charming self. But like all college crushes, he soon realises it’s not a real thing and it’s just silly infatuation. He’s been hanging out too much with him, that’s all, really.

But they hang out frequently after college and they meet during college batch gatherings from time to time. Sometimes Youngjae texts Yongguk to come out for a drink. Sometimes Yongguk says okay and they have a shot or two, relieving past memories and Yongguk punches his arm playfully, smiling that same gummy smile that manages to take his breath away. A little later into their lives, Yongguk says he’s sorry that he can’t grab a drink anymore because he has to feed his baby son his milk.

They’re in their mid-forties and Yongguk is a retired national player, with a pretty wife and two teenage sons, Youngjae is still single and earning the big bucks, just like everyone had expected.

Youngjae calls him out for booze and Yongguk says okay.

“Why aren’t you married yet?” Yongguk asks, downing his mug of beer, “No one good enough for you?” he jokes, and Youngjae chuckles sourly.

“I’ve dated a few girls and my mum’s desperate to make me get a wife soon. She’s so annoying.”

“Then why not?” Yongguk raises an eyebrow, and Youngjae shrugs.

“None of them really caught my eye, I guess.”

Yongguk smiles and tells Youngjae that he should do it soon, before he becomes too old to chase his children around, love flowing from his eyes as he talks about his family.

Youngjae doesn’t tell him that he has realised that the college crush he had developed twenty years ago isn’t really a crush and that he kind of loves Yongguk. He smiles bitterly.

In this lifetime, Bang Yongguk and Yoo Youngjae are bounded together by a strong friendship established in their teenage years, but pulled apart by different goals in life, one still stranded in the past and hoping for a relationship that will never happen.

 

 

_So as a fellow human,_

In this lifetime, his name is Kim Himchan.

                But names don’t really mean much. Or do they?

Kim Himchan has never been a fan of his name. It sounds a little… conspicuous. And conspicuous isn’t the way he likes to live his life.

This Kim Himchan is starkly different from the other Kim Himchans in the world. This one is a little quiet, a little kept to himself and a little shy around people.

This Kim Himchan has an identity complex. He’s not really sure who he is half the time of his life. He’s not entirely wrong.

In this lifetime, _his_ name is Choi Junhong.

                But names don’t really mean much. However, to Choi Junhong, it weighs being the most important thing in his life. Well, half-life.

See, the thing is, Kim Himchan is Choi Junhong and Choi Junhong is Kim Himchan. Names don’t really mean much, that’s already established.

In the day, Kim Himchan is the normal insignificant clerk in a big-assed transnational corporation, where he only gets called by the surname and made to photocopy documents. Insignificant, just the way he likes it. Choi Junhong thinks he’s really boring and that he has no life.

In the night, Choi Junhong is the budding talented rapper, making a name out for himself in the underground clubs as he drives the crowds crazy with his skilful tongue, the very same one that gets its way with the girls.

So starkly different, and yet the same.

Kim Himchan doesn’t know the name Choi Junhong, but he wonders why he has a sore throat in the mornings and why he sometimes ends up in somebody else’s apartment. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t speak them.

Perhaps a part of him wished to venture out, and it was thanks to Choi Junhong that Kim Himchan could find the first step to do so. Kept in the safe margins of life, never risking more than a fresh breath of air, while the other him went out to enjoy life, basking in the glory and the sins and ecstasy being alive could ever provide.

Kim Himchan never really went to see the psychologist. He thinks it’s okay to wake up beside a stranger’s bed and living a slovenly night life, a life he never had the chance to see or touch or hold, but that’s alright by him. At least half his life is wild enough.

Choi Junhong revels in living with Kim Himchan. Like a shadow, he doesn’t really fade, but only appears when the spotlight hits hard enough. He is a man of fun, games and dance and booming music all the same. But he doesn’t take the initiative to talk to the other man that he is.

They don’t talk. Talking is merging and merging two starkly different lives can be catastrophic.

In this lifetime, Kim Himchan and Choi Junhong are pulled apart by their personalities – one a wild animal in his night life and one a mundane being, his life written in steps and order – but put together, naturally, by residing in the same body.

In this lifetime, it’s the first time the souls merged so rather intimately.

 

 

_I’m glad I’ve met you,_

In this lifetime, his name is Bang Yongguk.

                But names don’t really mean much. One name _does_ mean slightly more than the others, though.

Bang Yongguk is a fifty year-old man and his grandson is expected to pop out next month. He is a happy man, he guesses. After all, he has filial children, playful grandchildren, and a casual retired lifestyle as he lives off his pension. Yes, not many people can achieve half of what Bang Yongguk has in half his life, so he’s a lucky man.

But Yongguk isn’t a believer of luck. He thinks that luck can play 1% of his life, while 99% of it is sheer hard work and a consequence of one’s own abilities and actions. It’s the 1% that he’s thankful for and the 99% that he hates him for.

In this lifetime, _he_ was Kim Himchan.

                But names don’t really mean much.

He was a stunning young man when he was in his odd twenties, a talented singer and a _very_ good-looking man. Kim Himchan often sang in several pubs, swaying his thin hips from side to side as he grips onto the microphone stand, his husky voice sending tremors along the spines of all who listened.

Of course, that also meant he had no lack of suitors. Which is why Yongguk is thankful for that 1% to have caught his eye.

Bang Yongguk hadn’t been terribly attractive when he was young, he was just rather handsome and he had an avid sense of humour. That was all, really. He did, however, have quite the flair for song and lyrics writing and it was with such talents he met Kim Himchan in his studio.

Thinking back about it now, perhaps the meeting with Kim Himchan had 50% of his sheer ability playing a part too. After all, the blonde male with the husky voice had taken a liking to his work almost immediately, demanding to meet the inspirational songwriter.

Through Himchan’s manager, they meet. The air was weighed down by intense stares and warm breaths, a small furtive glance on Himchan’s part before he leans over to kiss Yongguk on the cheek.

Love at first sight had always been a silly notion to Himchan; he never really believed in falling in love because of a single glance. But he’s willing to make exceptions if it is Bang Yongguk.

Yongguk’s face burns as Himchan pulls away, a sly smirk on his lips as he rolls on the balls of his feet, his eyes shy. They do an official handshake and Himchan admits that he would like Yongguk to write him a song. Yongguk agrees, even though the price Himchan is offering is way lower than his original quotes. But he’s a superficial man, and Himchan looks good enough to eat.

The older man says that Himchan needs to stick around to provide opinions about the work and the blonde-haired singer agrees, his eyes glinting with mischief as he sits on the couch in the studio, interlocking his fingers as he waits for Yongguk to work on his music patiently.

Fifteen minutes have passed and Yongguk realises nothing is entering his head so he grunts in frustration, messing his hair up. Slim arms wrap around his neck from behind and a husky voice whispers in his ears. “Shall I be your muse?” is all he says, and Yongguk knows he has lost the battle.

So he swerves around and takes the singer in his lap, the younger male’s legs spread out, one on either side of Yongguk’s as he cups the songwriter’s face and kisses him harshly, the older male returning the favour and tasting berries on his lips.

It was the first time they made love. The memory brings a smile to fifty year-old Yongguk’s face and his memory is as vivid as before as he had memorised the crevices and bumps in every corner of Himchan’s body, beholding his glorious twenty year-old self, listening as his moans resounded with his name, a buzzing sensation running down his body as they came.

It most definitely wasn’t the only time they made love. Soon, their relationship evolved into something more complicated and Himchan would always come over with the excuse of working on their new song, when really, all he did was scream out Yongguk’s name within the soundproof walls, drowning in the hot pleasure of having Yongguk buried deep in him.

Yongguk loved Himchan. It took him a while to realise that, but he finally did.

However, he wasn’t sure if Himchan loved him enough, or even loved him at all. He soon allowed such thoughts of insecurity to consume him whole, engulfing his conscious mind and planting an evil seed of distrust in his heart. It didn’t help that Kim Himchan wasn’t a man of great words and he often found confessing love a rather awkward and embarrassing matter. It was a little too late when he learnt that these words were exactly what Yongguk needed.

Yongguk can’t believe it anymore when Himchan coos and tells him that he loves him. He doesn’t reply but he smiles bitterly, chanting ‘ _liar_ ’ repeatedly in his mind. On retrospect, he was really an asshole and his actions were uncalled for.

Two years into their relationship and Yongguk has his suspicions. He glances knowingly when Himchan leaves his studio, wiping his mouth to make it look like they didn’t just have sex, or when Himchan dresses up way too nicely for ‘a coffee with a friend’. Yongguk knows, or at least he _thinks_ he knows.

It’s really his fault that he starts being a prick and accusing Himchan of the things he had never done, calling him harsh names and making every day of their lives miserable, filled with screams of ‘I know you went out with him’ and ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ in response.

Himchan is tired. He loves Yongguk, but he doesn’t know how else to show him that he does. He’s not a confident man himself either, and he would be thankful if he didn’t let his low-esteem eat him alive. He just isn’t capable of building Yongguk up when he’s tumbling down himself.

This night, he makes a good dinner for Yongguk and is slightly grateful that the older male isn’t bursting into insults anymore. But he smiles a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He straddles Yongguk when he’s still by the dining table, said man wiping his mouth off and thanking Himchan for the scrumptious feast.

So they kiss, after such a long time, and Yongguk has missed him. He realises he really loves Himchan and his heart finally admits that Himchan loves him just as much. But he’s prideful and not quite ready to tell his lover that he was wrong and he’s going to be throwing his insecurities behind him. He’s going to believe Himchan once and for all.

It was a little late for Yongguk to put down his pride because that night he wakes up to the water running in the bathroom at 3A.M, his forehead creased with worry and he pushes the ajar door gently to see Himchan lying in a pool of his own blood, his wrists slit with a sharp penknife and his face pale and surprisingly peaceful.

There was a sticky note by the door. _I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough for the both of us. But believe me when I tell you this one last time. I love you, Bang Yongguk._

It was all Yongguk’s fault. 99% of the time.

But even so, he was glad he had met Kim Himchan. He feels like he cannot love anyone else quite as much as he does for Himchan. Indeed, he’s guilty and he has found someone else that paled in comparison to Himchan, but that’s a past he tries to put behind and now he’s happy. The memories lasting from that 1% of luck would last him forever.

In this lifetime, Bang Yongguk and Kim Himchan are bounded together by a magical strand of destiny, weaving their paths together delicately, but pulled apart by the growling beast of insecurity, snipping the thread off cleanly, leaving only remnants of memories in the living partner’s life.

_And I guess I can finally say_

In this lifetime, his name is Yoo Youngjae.

                But names don’t really mean much.

Yoo Youngjae is a snarky little prick, mean and playful and basically he’s kind of a loser. His handsome face is his only saving grace, because he’s terribly popular with both the boys and girls and he half-classifies in the _cool_ category in school.

But he’s a rather boring guy and his life is filled with video games and his computer and also weird online chat rooms he’s not entirely sure why he even joins.

His friends in school _must not_ know of his Internet identity, because he might just be kicked out of the _cool guys_ clan if they knew how much of a no-life he is outside of school and that nobody ever invites him out, because they all think he must be busy going on dates, seeing that he’s so popular.

He almost begs for someone to ask him out for a movie, but apparently being good-looking has its pains. Self-assuming schoolmates, he thinks bitterly, but it’s really because he doesn’t think he’s cool enough to ask the _real_ cool guys out and he doesn’t want to stick around with the nerds or the gothic freaks.

He likes chat rooms. At least he gets to revert back to his snarky self and if the other friend doesn’t like it, he’s not worthy of his acquaintance.

So Yoo Youngjae is sitting in just his boxers, left hand on the mouse and right hand using the chopsticks to slurp noodles from his _ramyeon_ cup, making weird sounds at the burning satisfaction of instant noodles. He’s so intently focussed on his food his arm goes ahead to hit something on the keyboard and before he knows it he’s opening a chat window with a complete stranger.

It is also by some sheer luck that he manages to click ‘request video call’ and not surprisingly, the other guy accepts the invitation.

In this lifetime, _he_ is Jung Daehyun.

                But names don’t really mean much. Unless it reads WHERETHEHELLDIDYOUPUTMYCHEESECAKE on your messenger ID.

He makes a choking sound when the video call goes off and he’s staring at this dude (he doesn’t admit he’s really staring at his nipples because that’s the thing that’s directly before his camera lens. Imagine a full screen shot of a right nipple. Gross.) eating his _ramyeon_ down messily.

He clears his throat and the other guy’s head shoots up and his eyes widen for a split second, noodles spat out and spraying on the camera. This guy is apparently not very good with first impressions.

“Holy shit, _fuck!_ ” he screams, grabbing his blanket at the foot of his bed and drapes it across his torso, before he creeps over and pulls the noodles away from his web camera.

“What the actual hell, man?” he mumbles, and Daehyun isn’t sure if he’s saying that out loud to him or talking to himself. He stops himself before he says “what’s up, Nipple Man” because that’s really rude. Not like Daehyun’s a polite little fairy, though, he just wants to make a slightly better first impression than Ni – this dude.

“Um, hi?” he asks awkwardly, scratching the back of his head and he can’t help but think that this other boy is really, _really_ handsome.

And Jung Daehyun thinks he’s the best-looking man on the planet, so for him to acknowledge that someone was this handsome is a rather great feat. The black-haired male’s cheeks turn a slight pink and he chuckles, looking away sheepishly.

“H-hey, sorry for the terrible greeting. I think I pressed the wrong buttons or something.”

Daehyun chuckles, auburn fringe bouncing over his forehead and his eyes are trained on the screen, staring at the black-haired male, before it hits him. He _knows_ this guy! He’s the really popular flower boy from his high school! The gears in his head start to turn and he looks at him for another moment, making sure that he’s absolutely certain, before he registers his name.

“You’re Yoo Youngjae, aren’t you?!” he hollers, and the black-haired male’s eyes turn into the size of saucers. _Oh, fuck_.

His username reads MUSIQSOULCHILD so this guy _must_ know him in real life. And that really, _really_ sucks, no matter how handsome this auburn-haired boy is.

“N-no!” he shouts back a little too quickly, but Daehyun is smirking by now. This could be very fun, indeed. “Oh, Youngjae, I’m from your high school, don’t you know who I am?” he smiles impishly, and Youngjae is tempted to shove a dagger in his face through the Internet. He figures staring daggers could work just as well.

“No,” he says simply, his voice cold and hard and _fuck, seriously why did I meet this doofus he’s going to rat on me my high school life is going to be over._

Daehyun narrows his eyes and he ‘accidentally’ mentions that he had a screenshot of Youngjae’s nipples. He might have it or might not have it. He may have used the words ‘I think I have’ and ‘I may have saved’. But anyhow, it is fun looking at Youngjae squirm uneasily in his computer chair.

So he demands to know what Daehyun wants and the auburn-haired male thinks about this for a second. Here, we pause for a second, for we must know who Jung Daehyun is. The simplest answer to that would be: a loser. And now that we’ve successfully established that, we will go on.

The fun-loving brat raises an eyebrow and there is so much anticipation in his eyes. In contrast with Yoo Youngjae, Jung Daehyun is really the _worst_. Even though he’s quite the man to look at; large eyes, tall nose, thick lips and all, he’s a terrible person. And all the people who have hung out with him enough can affirm that for him.

It isn’t that Daehyun is an asshole, really. He just isn’t very good with his words or showing that he cares. Sometimes he just doesn’t care enough for people who don’t deserve it. He’s a man with no grey areas; you hate or you love, you can’t say ‘oh, he’s a bitch, but I guess he’s okay’. And he isn’t really a master at covering this trait, either.

But of course, the fact remains that he’s a loser because just like Yoo Youngjae, he likes staying at home and meeting strangers, people who don’t openly tell you they’re judging you and Jung Daehyun prefers to remain ignorant. He gets hurt quite easily, even with the bulky muscles that aren’t really useful in any living situation.

So with a glint in his large eyes, he requests for a date and Youngjae doesn’t admit that his heart is doing somersaults because he gets the best of both worlds: landing himself a date _and_ convincing the little prick to delete the screenshots of his nipples from his computer.

He wouldn’t know if Daehyun really deleted them or not, of course, and even though he’s slightly disturbed at the idea of Daehyun keeping it for his private collection, it’s okay as long as he promises to not leak them out. Who cares, as long as I’m still walking the margins of the cool gang, right?

So he _reluctantly_ agrees, sulking a little (Youngjae’s known to do that very well) and promises to meet Daehyun at the mall this Saturday. He doesn’t know why Daehyun wants to meet him or what they’ll say to each other when they meet other than ‘I’m going to gouge your eyes out if you even as much as land your eyes on my chest’ and ‘you flatter yourself, your nipples aren’t even such a great sight, douchebag’.

And that’s the exact conversation between the two _matured_ seventeen year-old boys, walking across retail shops, brows furrowed, thinking intensely for a better comeback as they bicker, bicker and _bicker_ some more. They’re even fighting over whose drink tastes better when they sit down for a cup of coffee to soothe their swollen throats and seriously, one would expect less of seventeen year-olds, only the both of them are downright losers, and I guess that explains for something.

It has been five hours and in the span of five hours, Youngjae knows way too much about Jung Daehyun: that Daehyun had lived in Busan all his life and came up to Seoul to study when he was ten, that he had a great passion in music and that he was basically a loser. The last part didn’t really need any proof, though. Youngjae knows that whole load by statements such as ‘your intonation is so weird; you sound like someone’s kicking you whenever you say every alternate syllable. Stop yelping, dickwad, everyone knows you’re a bitch anyway’.

Daehyun retaliates with ‘that’s because I’m from Busan, you prissy little shit, Seoul kids like yourself are such brats and I’ve known that since I was up here by ten’.

Youngjae replies ‘did you sleep in the hay as you grew up, village boy? I bet you can’t even work an electrical device because the lines don’t even run down there in Busan’.

Daehyun rebukes with an insult and Youngjae knows more about the province of Busan in twenty minutes than he could ever learn all his life in school.

Five hours later they are both tired out from the arguments and they sit by the bench outside the mall, strangely silent for a whole ten minutes, eyes trailing the sun as it sets across the horizon, and Daehyun sees the silhouette of Youngjae’s face hit by the dim light of the setting sun, his side profile so mesmerising and those killer cheeks absolutely tempting.

So he reaches out a hand and pinches it, the black-haired male jolting up in surprise and he scowls. “What?!” he hollers, and Daehyun looks upon, slightly afraid and embarrassed, his hand still hanging in mid-air.

6.57 seconds later they break into laughter that lasts for an entire ten minutes, Daehyun pinching Youngjae’s cheeks until they turn pink, though Youngjae isn't really sure if the new shade is indeed a result of Daehyun’s assault.

“Hi, the name’s Jung Daehyun,” he finally says, stretching out a hand and Youngjae chuckles, taking it.

“The name’s Yoo Youngjae,” he replies, taking his hand firmly, feeling a nervous jolt in his system and he jumps, before he reveals a charming little smile.

“But names don’t really mean much, do they?” he cocks his head to the side, and Daehyun feels like he might have heard this line somewhere, felt this surge through his fingers somewhere, that these eyes might have been a part of such magic sometime in the past.

The face had been different, the personality had been different, the voice, the smile, the eyes, even. But the feeling, this very queer sensation, that’s not entirely bad, feels exactly the same. It’s a little like déjà vu, only a déjà vu that hadn't and wouldn't be part of Daehyun’s life.

It’s funny, to say the least, but really, it’s more creepy than anything else.

But Daehyun swears Youngjae feels the same jolt through his system and suddenly, everything feels _just right_. And he’s not really sure what it was in him that made him say whatever he was about to say, but by looking into Youngjae’s eyes, he feels something in him that’s threatening to jump out to hold Youngjae.

As cheesy or creepy it may sound, it’s almost like the core of his heart flowing out to weave a magical bond with Youngjae. He now knows what it is that’s the same, despite Youngjae being entirely different from the ones in his memories: his soul.

So with a hushed breath, he stares into the wide eyes of his final soul mate and he whispers barely.

“And now, I’ve found you.”

 

 

_“I love you, I guess.”_

*****

 

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from AFF.  
> Here’s how it goes: there are two living souls, let’s just call them A and B and they take on different identities in different lifetimes, but essentially, they are the same people, which is why I kept repeating the point that ‘names don’t really mean much’ (sorry if you got tired from reading it omg).
> 
> So in the very start of their fate A and B kinda not really meet, but their paths have started to cross and with each lifetime and every identity they take up, they are tying their thread of Fate more closely together in progress. The most accurate depiction of this phenomenon would be Angel! Junhong and Satan! Daehyun and how they work. An angel pulls two people together and they of course don’t bond so quickly and some of them having thinning Fate and some were not strong to start with.
> 
> At the start of time they barely met (Junhong and Youngjae) because A and B’s lines didn’t quite pass yet and at the very end, Daehyun finds a soul mate in Youngjae because Fate has securely put them together and yay, happy ending.
> 
> Thank you for reading :D


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